


Polaris Calling

by wordsmithraven



Series: The Light of a Star over the Sea [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Canon Compliant, Past Violence, Rare Pairings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsmithraven/pseuds/wordsmithraven
Summary: Maryse and Luke go on their first date. It was supposed to be just a normal dinner date but old memories resurface and past pain threatens to overwhelm them both.





	Polaris Calling

**Author's Note:**

> The next one-shot in my Luke/Maryse series. It's the first date Maryse was talking about in "A Light in the Darkest Night."
> 
> This one has some of the cheesiest stuff I've ever written at parts. lmao Have fun! Hope you guys like it.
> 
> Leave me some comments. :)

 

Luke had always felt like he was floating, drifting listlessly on an endless sea. He’d spent his whole life trying to find the perfect anchor to hold him in one place. His mother, Cleophas, Valentine, Jocelyn, Clary…they’d all been the weight holding him steady at one point. Yet each time he’d thought he’d found safe harbor, the rope he had clung to had been cut—by force or chance or accident or rejection—every single anchor had been severed beneath him, leaving him unmoored on turbulent waters.

The keys jingled as he turned the ignition of his car off and pulled them from the key hole. He was parked in the nearly empty lot across the street from what looked like a decrepit and abandoned church to mundanes. To his own eye the building was lit up like a Christmas tree and well kept over the decades since it had been first erected. As Luke watched, he saw the front doors of the Institute open and a small group of black clad shadowhunters race out and off to some demonic emergency or other.

Luke took in a deep breath and tightened his hands around the keys resting between his palm and the steering wheel.

He looked down to his phone sitting in the drink holder and reached to pick it up, flicking the swipe to unlock it. He opened his text messenger and started typing:

> **To Maryse** : _Are you ready? I’ll be at the Institute in 5._

He dropped the phone into his gunmetal gray blazer along with his car keys and wrapped his big hands back around the wheel. The rough feel of the leather against his palms helped him concentrate.

He stayed in his car for several minutes before huffing out a breath and just launching himself from his comfort zone.

The Institute was as busy as it always was when he entered the doors. Shadowhunters were rushing to and fro, data pads in hand and weapon holsters at the ready. Luke had observed that everyone was more cautious about staying armed even in the Institute ever since Valentine’s attack. It had been a devastating blow to morale, Luke had learned from Alec at one of their weekly meetings. Alec was still struggling to gain his soldiers’ confidence after the increasingly demoralizing sequence of events that had happened in the last year.

Luke waited in the antechamber of the Institute for the young, rookie shadowhunter he’d sent further in to return with news of Maryse. He had little desire to go too far from the door himself when he wasn’t there on official business, even despite his trust in Alec. He still had too many bad memories wrapped up in the place to feel totally at ease there anymore.

“Hey, Luke, I didn’t know you were going to be here. Did something happen?”

Luke looked up to see Jace jogging up to him, smile wide. He had a bō staff in his hand and was wear gray workout clothes like he was going to practice.

Luke nodded his head in greeting. “Jace. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just visiting. I do know a few people here, you know.”

Luke decided to leave things vague in case Maryse hadn’t told him yet. It probably wasn’t easy to tell your kids that you were going to start dating again. Especially so soon after a divorce. He’d had his own hard time telling Clary a few days before. Clary had taken it well, considering. She wasn’t exactly happy but she hadn’t lost it so Luke felt it might be okay. He was confused himself about what was happening so he couldn’t blame Clary for that. They would talk again when he figured out if this thing with Maryse was going to last.

“Right. Well, Clary’s in the training room. Izzy and I were going to take her through some forms to help her bō training but I can send her up for you.”

He was pointing a thumb behind him, half turned like he was going to do just that when Maryse’s voice cut through the chatter.

“He’s not here for Clary, Jace. He’s here for me.”

Both Luke and Jace turned to look down the hall but Luke had to figure he was the only one who lost his breath.

Maryse was standing only a few feet away. Her tawny pea coat was left open so Luke could see most of what she wore underneath. She was wearing a knee length, green dress cinched tight around the torso and stretching snuggly over her wide hips to emphasize her hourglass figure. She wore sheer pantyhose and gold high heels. Her hair fell loose on one side of her neck in thick waves and her lips glowed an orange-y pink in the overhead lights. She was stunning.

Luke had seen Maryse in this type of dress before—she leaned more towards the classier clothes in her daily life—but this somehow felt different. This was Maryse dressing for a date with him. Wearing something sexy and elegant to go out to eat with _him_. Not for a Clave meeting or a formal ball or even just as the leading diplomat from New York. No, she just wanted to look nice for their date and somehow it made it all so _real_ to him.

Luke sucked in a breath to start his respiratory system back up and moved forward to take Maryse’s hand as had become their habit. Not as a handshake but in one of those half things with her fingers resting in his upturned hand like he was going to lift them up for a kiss but decided not to. She squeeze his fingers quickly but didn’t pull away afterwards. When he looked in her eyes in question, she slow blinked and gave a miniscule nod. He turned next to her and pulled her arm through his folded one instead of dropping it, keeping his hand over hers.

“Maryse, mom…you look nice…?”

Jace’s gaze moved rapidly between Luke and Maryse’s eyes then down to their still linked hands. Luke could see the cogs turning in his head but he made no attempt to speak on Jace’s clear conclusion. Maryse had made the choice to let Jace know, so he respected that.

“Thank you, Jace,” Maryse said. Her voice was kind of shaky, nervous. “I’ll be out the rest of the night so I won’t join you all for dinner.”

Jace nodded, a little wide eyed. “Cool. I guess that…I’ll tell Alec and Izzy?”

He said the last like a question and Luke knew then that if they wanted it, Jace would keep it a secret.

Luke felt Maryse square her shoulders next to him. “Isabelle already knows; she helped me dress before she left on mission. You can tell Alec. Maybe not Max yet.”

Luke let out a breath.

“Clary already knows,” Luke added. He left it at that, not feeling the need to do into detail with Jace and Maryse in the hallway of the Institute.

Jace nodded over and over, eyes flitting back and forth between Luke and his mother. An awkward silence descended over the trio. In the background were the sounds of a busy Institute full of people talking, computers running, and the distant clang of metal hitting metal.

“Okay,” Luke said and clapped his hands. “We should get going. We have a reservation. Good seeing you, Jace.”

He nodded to Jace then laid his hand over Maryse’s resting on his arm.

Maryse followed the move with her eyes for a moment before she hesitantly tightened her arm in his. Her skin was soft under his fingers.

Jace watched the entire thing closely, lips pressed into his usual resting pout face, then stepped forward to kiss Maryse on the cheek.

“Bye, mom. Have a nice dinner,” he said, then stepped back. “Luke.”

Jace stayed watching them as they left the entryway out onto the front steps. Luke could feel his eyes practically digging into the back of his head. Luke wouldn’t go so far as to say he was intimidated by the stare— _as if_ , he thought, amused—but he could admit that a strange kind of pressure overtook him.

He politely held Maryse’s hand in his as she descended down the stone steps of the cathedral and made a promise to try not to screw everything up.

***

The restaurant Luke had chosen was a French one in Midtown called _L'oie D'or_ , the Golden Goose. Luke had been able to get a table so quickly after deciding on the date because the restaurant’s pastry chef was an old mundane friend of his, Dominic Marcel, who had left the force to pursue the culinary arts.

The restaurant was fairly new, only opened two years before, and according to Yelp it was a great place for a date. Luke had been a little skeptical so he’d decided to look up reviews, not just take Dominic’s word for it. Just because the pastry chef could bang out a delicious pound cake, it didn’t mean the chef could do the same with meat. He’d never eaten there himself, after all.

The drive to the restaurant had been quiet, Maryse and Luke both finding themselves at a loss for what to talk about. Luke found it strange as they had always managed to find something before, whether it be about their shared past or about the current state of the Shadow World. He wasn’t sure why it was suddenly hard now that they were actively trying to date.

They arrived at the restaurant ten minutes before their set reservation and Luke gave his car over to the valet and walked Maryse inside.

The restaurant was large, multi-leveled, and longer than it was wide. It was filled with customers this time of night on a Saturday. The round tables were elegantly decorated with simple pearl tablecloths and strategically placed candles and flowers. The room was permeated with the aroma of cooked food. Soft music and happily chattering voices completed the ambiance.

It was the type of restaurant that had a dress code, which was why Luke was wearing his nicest blazer over a pitch black button down and slim fitted pants the same shade of black. He had even folded a handkerchief to stick in the breast pocket.

Luke kept his blazer on but Maryse wanted to check her pea coat. She had used her stele to glamour her runes before they had arrived. When Luke helped her out of her coat and revealed her low cut cocktail dress in full, her light brown skin glowed vibrantly in the light of the restaurant’s overhead lamps.

“Thank you,” she said to him and patiently waited while he took the ticket. He noticed that her tone was still soft.

The employee who seated them led them up onto the second floor to a table by the windows at the front of the building, looking out onto the street. The casement windows were fronted by planter boxes overflowing with hanging vines, and Luke could tell that in warmer months they would probably be opened and the vines possibly blooming.

Luke held Maryse’s chair as she sat before taking his own place opposite her. Their waitress arrived to talk to them shortly after. She had blonde hair cut in a bob and an exuberant demeanor.

“Welcome to _L’oie D’or_. My name is Laurel, sir…ma’am, and I’ll be your waitress today.” She set down two menus for them. “Chef Arnaud’s signature tonight is the poached salmon with black truffles which has been a real favorite among both the diners and the critics. There is also the _confit de canard_ made with duck specially raised on humane farms. For wine choices we have…”

The waitress excitedly listed menu items that Luke had not one bit of knowledge of. He was not a stranger to fine dining per se but he had never been that taken with French cuisine; he was more into the stronger flavors of other locales like India and Ethiopia. He had chosen the restaurant with Maryse in mind, figuring she would enjoy the place.

The waitress continued for a while, peppering in anecdotes every now and then.

Maryse’s dry voice cut through the tail end of the waitress’ spiel. “Thank you…Laurel. We will look over the menu ourselves. I’ll just have a glass of water for now. Luke?”

Luke looked up, suppressing a smile at Maryse’s curtness. “Same for me. Thank you.”

Laurel looked a little sad that she wasn’t able to finish her recitation but relented and left, returning only briefly to leave their waters.

“I honestly think she was prepared to read off the entire menu,” said Maryse after the woman had left the second time. Her mouth was curled in slight derision.

Luke laughed. “She wasn’t that bad, surely. She was just…enthusiastic.”

Maryse gave a tiny shrug and spread her napkin over her lap. “It was tiring, regardless. ‘Brevity is the soul of wit’ is a saying for a reason.”

Luke smiled again. “I can’t say that I’m surprised, you’ve always been partial towards people who understood…efficiency of speech.”

Maryse smiled into her menu. “That’s the main reason I associated with you in the first place, Lucian. You always knew when to shut up.”

“Was that a suggestion?”

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Alright, then,” he said, laughing again. Back to ordering. “What are you thinking of having?”

Luke looked over his own menu. French cuisine being one of his least favorites, his choices were limited. His werewolf sensibilities made him lean more towards red meat cooked as raw as possible for most of his meals so he took a glance at their steak options.

He reached for his glass of water and sipped.

“I’ll be honest with you, Lucian, I don’t really like French food.”

Luke coughed into his water. “I’m sorry, what?”

Maryse furrowed her brows. “Is that strange?”

He shook his head. “No, no…that’s not what I meant. I picked this restaurant because I figured this would be your kind of thing.”

“Why?”

Luke shrugged. “I don’t know…you were always so _particular_ about what you ate when we were younger. I figured it was the same now.”

Maryse stared at him. It likely wasn’t long but he still started to fidget. She rolled her lips together and looked away from him out of the window just before she started talking again.

“Lucian…the reason I was like that back then was because people used to…lace things into my food.”

Luke’s jaw went slack.

“It wasn’t…dangerous things. Nothing like glass or bleach or anything. Just salt or horseradish or vinegar. Something to make me throw up but not outright kill me.”

Maryse never took her eyes off the street outside as she spoke. Her fingers were gripping the menu so tight the pads of them were turning white.

“You never showed it,” he said quietly.

She darted her eyes to him. “And let them see that they’d gotten to me? Never.” Her nose raised a little and her jaw clenched tight. Maryse had always been very careful of her pride.

“I didn’t know. I just thought-”

“That I was a prissy eater? Sadly, no. I am not as snobbish as you might think.”

Luke smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t have said ‘snobbish’ either way.”

She went back to look at her menu finally. “Well, what’s done is done.”

Luke stayed quiet a moment, wondering if this was one of those times he should let something go or if he should speak up.

“Why did you never tell us?” he eventually asked, choosing the second option.

Maryse sighed and flopped her menu down. “To what end, Lucian? Robert wouldn’t have done anything. He was always so passive, especially back then. And Michael would have followed his lead, _parabatai_ bond and all that. Now Jocelyn…well, she would have brashly and loudly confronted everyone— _embarrassing_ —and Valentine…well, he probably wouldn’t have cared until Jocelyn decided to take on the whole student body. Then it would have really become a whole spectacle.” She shuddered almost violently and sneered a little. “No, better to just swallow down paprika pies and bear it.”

“And me?” he asked.

Maryse paused as she went to drink her water. “Oh?”

Luke waved his hand. “What did you think I would have done?”

Maryse looked taken aback at the question, her face gone blank in confusion. “You?”

“Yes. Why didn’t you tell _me_?”

He watched as Maryse lightly bit her lip. She looked away from him again.

“I guess it just never occurred to me,” she said wonderingly. “It wasn’t really about you, or anyone else, it was about me.”

He let her talk uninterrupted. She was clearly working through something. She frowned hard and her eyebrows came together, pushing wrinkles up between them. She licked her lips, perhaps a little nervously.

“I guess…I guess I’m just not one to lean on other people.”

She shrugged helplessly and finally caught his eyes again. Luke smiled softly.

“You can now.”

“Oh…” Maryse’s face was wide open, eyes round and mouth shaped into a little circle.

Luke wondered if anyone had ever said those words to Maryse; said that she could relax and let someone else take the wheel; said that she was worth taking care of and protecting.

Her children, perhaps— _for_ sure _her children_ , Luke thought, remembering Jace’s warning glare on the back of his head not but an hour before. But children were children, and no parent liked to be dependent on their children in that way. Not the way you would with a partner or spouse.

Luke was not as in the know about what had happened between Maryse and Robert—both of them being such private people—only that they had been separated for a while and had had a quiet divorce. The face that Maryse was making made Luke wonder how long Robert had disengaged from Maryse that the thought of someone taking care of her shocked her so.

Luke flicked his eyes to Maryse’s bare hands and the fading line where her wedding ring used to sit.

Maybe they had been disengaged even longer ago. After all, Maryse had just nonchalantly dismissed teenage Robert right along with everyone else. Maybe their relationship had been hollow and brittle and lifeless even back then.

Luke decided to have mercy on Maryse and end his direct interrogation of Maryse’s psyche. This was their first date, after all. He didn’t want to come off as too…blunt. He decided to move the conversation back to something lighter.

 “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I chose French even if neither of us really like it.” He flipped his menu closed and raised a hand to call the waitress to them. “If we’d gone with _my_ cravings, we’d be eating _laal maas_ right now.”

Maryse laughed, full bodied and throaty. Luke grinned at having caused such a delightful sound.

“Actually, Indian would have been perfectly fine with me. Choke down enough cayenne meatloaf specials and you kind of get a taste for having your esophagus stripped of its skin.”

Then it was his turn for a boisterous laugh, eyes squeezed shut and heart lighter than a feather.

***

They had decided to take a walk through the city after dinner, leaving his car in valet parking until they wanted to properly leave.

Maryse had looked at him in slight disgust and caustically said, “Really, Lucian? You want to have a city stroll? How rom-com.”

Luke had grinned, seeing through her derision, and said, “Absolutely, I do. When was the last time you just experienced New York as a place where you live, as your home?”

She’d fallen silent at that and put up no more protest.

It was late by then, nearing half past nine at night. The weather was just on the cusp of turning from summer to fall and there was a slight chill in the air. Maryse had buttoned her pea coat accordingly.

Werewolves always ran hot so he was content with just his blazer. He had his hands in his pockets as they walked slowly along 8th Ave, close to each other but still leaving those last few inches separating them.

The streets were actually bustling with people. Saturday night was a popular night for partying and socializing. People going to and coming from clubs, restaurants, theaters, comedy shows…you name it. Luke’s supernatural senses were taken over by the overwhelming aroma of sweaty bodies, liquor drunk on empty stomachs, and toxic car exhaust fumes.

Luke and Maryse struggled to stay together a little in the hubbub until finally Luke grabbed Maryse’s hand and pulled her close to him. Her fingers gave a spasm at first then tightened their grip and her shoulder bumped companionably against his.

As they’d walked, they’d tried talking about their drab dinner and the surprisingly rich chocolate mousse dessert. When the din of 8th Ave got too much, however, they found themselves turning off on W 56th until they came to a little grassy park full of benches and greater quiet. As far as Luke could tell, no one but they were there. Before he could even suggest it, Maryse pulled them to the side to sit down. They still didn’t let go of each other’s hands.

“Well, there’s New York. Just as bloated and tiring as ever,” Maryse said waspishly. “Alicante was never this…tumultuous.”

Luke smiled. “It’s not that bad. Just people living their lives, day after day. And hey, we found this quiet place to stop.” He waved his arm as if to show off the little park.

“Ah, yes, and what a charming grotto it is,” she said mockingly. “I think there’s a rat in those bushes.”

Luke looked to where she pointed. He only saw the leaves shaking but no sign of an animal. It easily could have been the wind but Luke decided to go for teasing instead.

“Would you say it was of an _unusual size_?” he said, smiling.

“No, just a regular city rat. I- What do you mean?” Maryse looked puzzled.

Luke stumbled as his joking reference fell flat. “Never mind,” he said, trying to recover. “It doesn’t mean anything important.”

When Maryse looked away skeptically, Luke closed his eyes in embarrassment. He wasn’t sitting there with Simon or Clary or Maia…or even his partner, Ollie. Of course Maryse had no clue what he was blabbering about. He’d be surprised if she’d ever seen a mundane movie in her life, let alone such a silly one.

Although, as he eyed Maryse bending a bit to rub her calf, he thought her watching _the Princess Bride_ for the first time would be quite the sight to see.

“By the Angel, these heels make my legs look fabulous but they’re not exactly made for late night strolls,” she said, stretching her aforementioned feet out in front of her. Her gold shoes sparkled in the low light.

Jocelyn had not been partial to heels, preferring flats and tennis and boots. Not when she’d been a warrior shadowhunter and definitely not after they’d left the Shadow World with Clary. Thus was the wardrobe of a woman on the run from their own government and a homicidal maniac. Heels soon became a luxury at best, a liability at worst.

His oldest sister Amatis had worn heels, though. Amatis who had half raised him and Cleophas after their mother had abandoned them to join the Iron Sisters. He remembered watching her when he was younger as she trained over and over to fight in them. Not for missions, she’d said, but just in case she was ever caught out in them.

“Always gotta be ready, Lucy,” she’d said once. “You never know when the devil will come for you.” Then she had given him a noogie and went back to her high heeled squats.

The devil really had come for Luke…in the form of Valentine Morgenstern. And Luke had been thrown to the wolves. When he’d gone back home to Amatis and Cleophas afterwards, he had found no shelter there. Both of them had decided he was no longer worthy of the name or the protection of the Graymarks. So started his life on the run too.

Now Maryse almost always wore heels. The only times Luke could remember Maryse _not_ in heels was during their youth when they’d gone on missions together. Every other time he’d met her in the last twenty-five years, she was styled to perfection from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

It was absolutely no wonder that he’d thought she’d like French cuisine despite her protests about the assumption. She’d always had that air about her. Like someone who thought Europe the height of elegance and everywhere else was kind of trash. Even when they’d been warriors together, had bled together, she’d given that impression to others. “The Claymore Condesa” Valentine had called her once. His “beautiful blade.”

Valentine had liked to give them pet names like that. Just like he’d loved to tell them each that they were his favorite.

“Why do you think Valentine held such sway over us all those years ago?” he asked spontaneously. “So much so that we were ready to give up everything.”

Maryse froze then gave a scoff. “Well, that question certainly came out of nowhere. What brought this on?”

Luke waved a hand to dismiss the question, intent on the answer to the first. “Just a stream of consciousness thing. Tell me, why did you join him?”

Maryse breathed deep and crossed her legs, leaning back into the bench while she contemplated the question.

“It’s hard to say, really. He was charismatic and passionate. He sprinkled truths in amongst the lies. He made you feel…special, like you were part of something greater than yourself. More noble.”

Luke nodded. “Like you had purpose,” he said and turned towards her, shifting in his seat and propping his arm up on the back of the bench. He rested his head in his hand as he watched her speak. Her face was lit gold in the corona of a park lamp and her lips glistened with her lipstick, newly applied after a trip to the restroom just before they’d left the restaurant.

“Exactly. Like a star guiding you in the night.” She shrugged and crossed her arms. “I guess everyone had different reasons for following him. Personal reasons, I mean. When I met him—met all of you—that was just after my brother and I was all alone, abandoned by my friends. I guess I just wanted to belong to something. And once I did, I was all in.”

Luke hummed, understanding.

Maryse reached out to grip the bench on either side of her legs, arms locked straight as she leaned forward to look at the ground.

“It got really…intense when we started…hunting. Demons and downworlders. I know it’s been a while but you remember what it felt like when your blood was up and your runes were hot from a stele?”

Luke nodded. It was more than just an adrenaline rush. It was like going into a battle craze: heart pounding, skin tingling, veins burning inside you, and breath going fast and hard. A berserker state.

The only comparable feeling Luke had was when his wolf took over and he had to feed or hunt or dominate. Though from what Luke understood from Alaric, the last part was more characteristic of werewolves who were potential Alphas rather than regular werewolves. Of his Pack currently, only Luke and Maia had displayed the desire to control when shifted. It’s what made Maia an excellent second-in-command but also a recalcitrant one.

Luke smiled a little at the thought.

It was only now that he was on the other side of being a downworlder that he could understand how closely shadowhunter urges matched downworlder ones. Angel or Demon blooded, in the end, they were all the same.

Maryse scraped the sole of her shoe on the ground as she uncrossed her legs, pulling Luke from his small reverie.

“All that excitement plus all that loneliness after Max left me…I clung to Valentine like he was a lifeline. Even more than I held to Robert, even though I’d married him. I let Valentine talk me into _anything_ just to keep feeling that high. Even the most heinous of things…”

She trailed off, lost in some memory Luke couldn’t decipher. Her eyes shuttered a little, her bottom lip trembled, and her hands grip the bench in a vise.

“I stayed with him for a long time. Long after you and Jocelyn had left. Long after he was well and truly insane. Long after I was…Right up to the Uprising.”

Luke looked down at his hand, lowering the one propping his head in order to massage them together. He remembered. He remembered being on the other side of the lines from her, blood splattering her body and eyes wild.

“Why _did_ you defect in the end? What changed your mind?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She gave a quick smile. “Alec.”

Luke nodded, understanding.

“My baby boy was all I could think about standing there in the ruins of Alicante, bodies all around me. I was so tired of everything. Tired of fighting, tired of killing, tired of not seeing him every day. I couldn’t leave him all alone to run for myself so…I surrendered.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and the scent of her rose in the night wind: jasmine and vanilla.

“I threw myself on the mercy of the Clave and my former allies. I’d have either lived and still gotten to see my baby, or I’d have died and at least known I had tried.”

“I get it.”

“It took me a long time even after that before I started to realize how far I had went for Valentine. It wasn’t over night that I changed.” She barked out a deprecating laugh. “Well, if my children’s ruined lives are anything to go by, I still have a ways to go.”

Luke pressed his hand to her arm briefly. “Hey, we all had amends to make and sins to atone for. Just because I left earlier doesn’t mean I get a pass for when I was his loyal man.”

Maryse turned her head. “At least you can say you left when you did. And you were his _parabatai_. It was probably ten times harder for you and yet still you wised up, far sooner.”

Luke looked away, unable to dispute the claim. It _had_ been hard to leave him. Even after all Valentine had done, Luke sometimes missed him, felt the ache of that soul deep connection now missing. Even after Valentine had tried to kill him so many times and had actually killed Jocelyn, Luke missed feeling Val’s heart beating in time with his own. It was his greatest shame to hate Val so completely and yet _love_ him so deeply. He hadn’t told anyone about it. He didn’t know if he ever could.

The bushes Maryse had noticed earlier shook again and out ran a cat squalling loudly.

He turned back to her. “Do you remember the night we first met Magnus?”

Maryse nodded.

“Do you remember the screams that came out of that room where Valentine was mutilating that werewolf with silver?”

“That poor, little girl…”

“I was a party to that. I was there for that. I let that happen just as you did, just as we all did. That girl was blinded, Magnus was almost killed…my hands aren’t clean either.”

Now it was her turn to reach out to him, grabbing his hand to hold like she always did.

“Lucian, you still stopped him. You were the _only_ reason Valentine stopped that night. You saved Magnus’ and those werewolves’ lives.”

“But not the Whitelaws…”

He felt Maryse squeeze her hand tighter around his. She stayed silent and he figured she knew that it was true.

“The sight of that little girl haunted my dreams for years, for decades. I still see her in my mind. I never saw that werewolf family again—they understandably left New York completely afterwards—but I imagine what she must look like now. I imagine her grown and hope she is doing well.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t lighten the weight of it.”

Luke’s throat closed around a lump and he let his head fall back, looking up at the sky. It was dark purple and inky gray. He couldn’t see any stars through the smog of New York but the moon was high, more than three-fourths of the way to full dark.

Luke felt Maryse’s other hand touch his where it still lay beneath her right one. She lifted his hand and slid it between them, cradling it between her palms.

“When we were at the Academy, I used to think of you and Valentine as twin stars caught in an eternal orbit, pulling and pushing each other. Later I started to think of you as more like the sun, warm and close and nurturing. Valentine just became that distant star. Dazzling to the eye but always out of reach.”

Luke snorted. “He was more like a black hole, sucking you in to your destruction.”

“Perhaps,” Maryse said and smiled. “Unattainable Star or Unescapable Singularity…either way he was not someone to hang your destiny on or cleave your life to. He was not the North Star guiding the way. He was a poison. His words were _poison_. What we can both now say definitively is that we’ve excised him from ourselves.”

“Good riddance,” Luke replied, but his voice was shaky and uncertain with the edge of a lie in it. He didn’t dare tell Maryse or anyone else about his secret, lingering desire to have Valentine as his brother again.

They were quiet for a few minutes, both lost in thought. Maryse was running her fingers over his hand, her French manicured nails were scraping lightly across his skin. Luke watched the movement intently and flicked his eyes up to look at Maryse’s face. She was looking out into the little park’s trees. He didn’t even think she was aware of what she was doing.

“I went to see him, you know,” she said suddenly and turned to catch his eye. “Valentine. I went to see him the night Alec held that first Downworlder Cabinet Meeting.”

His eyes widened in shock. Had she seen him? Not many knew what Luke had done that night. Alec had been careful to keep it between himself and that head of security of his. Alec had said he was keeping it a secret so that the Clave wouldn’t have an excuse to arrest Luke. Luke had been grateful for that at least even if he still slightly resented the fact that Alec had foiled his vengeance.

It was another secret Luke was keeping. Something he didn’t think anyone knew other than Luke, Alec, Jace, Izzy, Clary, Sebastian Verlac, Valentine…and the mystery caller. Well, maybe Magnus too, though he’d never said anything to Luke. Luke knew Alec must rarely keep anything from the other man.

But if Maryse had gone down to see Valentine that night, there was a good chance she had seen him. He wasn’t afraid that she would betray him to the Clave as such but he still wasn’t sure he really wanted anyone close to him to know about his recklessness that night. Or even worse, that he had failed.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she continued. “I guess I just wanted to try _something_. To see if I could trick him into telling me where the Cup was.”

She laughed. Her eyes were shining in the street lights almost like they were filling with tears.

“It didn’t work, of course. Valentine was too smart. He said he knew me, knew how I think. He knew I was well and truly rid of him. He called me his favorite like he always used to do.”

“He used to say that to all of us, you know. He used to take us aside and say all the right things to make us more loyal, more sycophantic.”

Maryse laughed again and the tears fell. She raised a hand to wipe at them but he beat her to it, swiping his thumb over her soft cheeks.

“Of course he did,” she said and hiccupped. She shook her head laughing hard, just on the cusp of hysterical. “Of course he would do that. And every time I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

She lifted one hand to her trembling lips and her face grew wetter with her crying. She left her other hand in his and he turned them to lace his fingers with hers. He didn’t say anything, just let her cry silently until she straightened, cleared her throat, and violently swiped at her face.

“Good thing I wore my waterproof, eh?” she said and chuckled ironically.

Luke gave a tight smile, reached into his blazer’s breast pocket, and handed her his handkerchief. She took it with a tiny thank you and a shaking hand. He waited while she calmed down and wiped her face. The handkerchief slowly dirtied up from her fading makeup. She put the bit of cloth in her purse instead of handing it back.

“I’ll clean this and give it back to you. Thank you,” she said.

“I can take care of it.”

“Lucian, I will handle it,” she said firmly, and that was the end of that.

***

The trip back to the Institute was quiet between them. They both were still swimming in the emotions their talk had stirred up. Maryse spent most of the time looking out the passenger side window, her face painted with the passing colors of city lights.

It was not anywhere close to where Luke had thought the night would go and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not, if it was a good _date_ or not. Maybe he would know in the morning.

He pulled up to the Institute parking lot, parked as close to the doors as possible. He looked at the clock, saw that it was well past 11 PM, almost 12. He turned off the ignition, pulled the key from the car, and put it in his pocket.

Luke started to open his door, cracked it an inch wide even, but then he hesitated. He closed it with a slam and turned a little to look at Maryse in the temporarily bright light of the car. She was watching him silently, making no move to hurry inside.

He studied her face for a moment. Her smooth skin was exposed after she’d wiped at it earlier. Her lipstick was all but gone and her eye makeup was wrecked. She’d been crying and she looked it.

The overhead light in the car went out and plunged them into darkness. There were no lights in the parking lot since the Institute was meant to look like an abandoned building to the mundanes.

Luke made a decision.

“I went to see Valentine too that night,” he started and he paused. He looked forward and reached his hands out to grip the steering wheel again. “Except I didn’t give a damn about the Cup. I just went there to kill him.”

Maryse was silent and he glance over briefly to see that her expression was completely blank. Not judging, not condemning, not pleased, and not surprised.

“I got so angry. I’m _still_ angry. After Jocelyn. After what he did to Cleophas and Clary and Simon and Madzie and Dot and even Jace. After killing so many of my people with the Soul Sword. People I swore to protect…to lead and advocate for. I led them into a trap and they died by his hand because they _trusted_ me. _Alaric_ …”

He broke off, his vision going white with renewed grief and rage. He felt his eyes go and knew they were wolf green. He looked at his own hands squeezing so tight around the leather of the steering wheel he heard it start to warp under his strength.

“I wanted him to die by my hands just like them. Blood for blood. That’s the werewolf way.”

Maryse moved then and lightly settled her hand on his.

“Alec stopped me. He scolded me even. Said I was being reckless and careless. Said the Clave would punish me,” Luke laughed hoarsely. “He wasn’t wrong but I’m still so angry he interrupted. Even if the Clave killed me for it, I think I would have thought it was worth it just to feel my knife sink into his gut.”

Maryse leaned forward and pressed her left hand underneath his chin, turning his head to her. She studied his face and smoothed the hand up from his chin to his cheek, fingers dragging over his beard.

“Leave it,” she said, voice hard as ice. “Don’t let that rage consume you. Hatred will draw you into his orbit just as surely as love will. Take it from someone who held hatred in her heart for two decades. I nearly destroyed my family clinging to my hate. Do not let Valentine devour you, Lucian. He’ll have as good as won if you lose yourself to him.”

Luke didn’t know what to say. He could hear her words, even hear the wisdom in them, but it was hard to reconcile his mind with his heart. He knew that vengeance was a slippery slope to madness but his heart still hungered for it. He would have to think about it.

They left the car and he walked Maryse back to the front doors of the mammoth building. He was exhausted and he figured she was too. They stopped at the stairs, her two steps up when she turned back to him, her face level with his own.

Maryse suddenly grabbed the lapels of his blazer and pulled him forward, leaning to press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. She moved to pull away, maybe to go back to walking up the stairs, but his hands were suddenly on her upper arms. Before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing her.

She gasped a little but Luke didn’t use the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He kept everything soft and light, slow and gentle. Her hands tightened on his lapels and he lifted one hand up to the back of her neck, his fingers sliding into her silk hair. His other arm he slid around her full waist, pulling her closer.

They kissed softly for a while, eyes closed and inhalations deepening. He could taste the remnants of her lipstick on her lips and his nose filled with the scent of jasmine and vanilla.

She let out a little whimper and shuddered, and that was when he finally pulled back. His heart was beating fast and he could hear hers was too. They stayed close, noses still pressed to cheeks and lungs gasping for air.

Luke opened his eyes and saw that Maryse’s were still closed. A wave of some emotion he didn’t quite catch rolled across her face. He brushed his thumb under her eye and caught the edge of a single tear.

“Crying in my arms again, eh?” he teased, voice rough and ragged. The humor he’d been going for got lost in the passion of the moment.

He remembered the first time they’d ever had a full conversation. More than just greetings in the hallways of the Academy. Maryse had been out in the cold dark, in pain and alone, and he had held her in his arms when she just couldn’t take it anymore.

Maryse laughed and smacked her hand into his chest.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, Graymark,” she said with a wicked smile.

He smirked, remembering their banter even twenty years later.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Trueblood,” he said.

After Maryse had left inside the building and Luke had returned to his car, he thought long about what she had said to him. About losing himself to hatred. The overhead car light clicked off once again and Luke looked up through his windshield. There were still no stars in the sky and the moon was still near to fully waned.

Maryse was right. Valentine was not one to light your way by; he was nobody’s North Star to guide you on shifting seas.

Sitting in the dark staring up at a dark sky, Luke thought maybe he’d found a different one.

 


End file.
